A Girl Like Her (Ravenswood Book 1)

by Talia Hibbert

  Ruth nodded, watching as he placed the tulip carefully in a cup holder. “I signed up to volunteer at the library.”

  “You used to do that, right? Before?”

  “Yeah, I…” She trailed off as they pulled out of the little staff car park, driving right past the forge doors. Right past Daniel, who stood in the doorway, his eyes wide.

  Ruth turned away, looking straight ahead. She wasn’t going to spend the rest of her life tiptoeing around, just to avoid him. He didn’t bother avoiding her. It was well past time to start living her life.

  “He hasn’t even looked at me all day,” Evan said quietly. Ruth jumped slightly in her seat as the words pulled her out of her defiant thoughts.

  “Daniel?” She asked.

  “Yeah. He’s always in my face, one way or another, but today? Nothing.”

  She drummed her fingers against her thighs. “Maybe Mr. Burne said something to him.”

  “He told me I could lose my job if I didn’t leave you alone.”

  Ruth’s jaw dropped. ”Mr. Burne?”

  “Oh, no. Daniel.”

  Ah. Her growing outrage soothed, and she relaxed back into her seat. “Don’t listen to that. He puts his dad’s name on his own bullshit. Mr. Burne doesn’t even like Daniel. I don’t know why they work together.”

  “Probably because Daniel’s so good at his job.”

  Daniel was good at everything.

  Except people, she finally realised. People, and relationships, and happiness and… sex.

  Speaking of which…

  Evan’s muscles shifted as he changed gear, pulling into Elm’s little car park. She watched the glide of power beneath his golden skin and felt a familiar tightening between her legs.

  “So,” she said. “Wanna fuck?”

  Evan jerked his head round to look at her. Then he burst out laughing. “I really never know what you’re going to say next.”

  She grinned. “Does that mean no?”

  “I need to shower. And I said I’d fix your bed. I got the wood.” He yanked up the handbrake and nodded towards the beam laying across the back seat.

  But she saw the way his hand tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening. And she saw the way his eyes darkened from summer sky to tempestuous ocean.

  So she said again, “Does that mean no?”

  He stared at her for a moment. Then he slid a hand behind her neck, pulled her to him and growled, “Nope.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  They didn’t have sex in Evan’s car, because a charge of public indecency wouldn’t do anyone any good. But as they entered the building, as they climbed the stairs, Evan couldn’t keep his hands off Ruth. She half-ran to stay ahead of him, pushing him away with a laugh every time he reached for her.

  When they got to his door, she slid off her shoe and produced the key he’d given her. Evan arched a brow. “Seriously?”

  “This is where I keep keys,” she said primly. “When I don’t have pockets, I mean.”

  “Of course it is.” He’d already found her phone shoved down her waistband, before she pushed his hands away. Evan shook his head, laughter light in his chest even as lust tightened his core, hardened his cock.

  Feelings weren’t as straight forward and binary as he’d once assumed; around Ruth, he could feel fifty things at once.

  She dragged him into his own flat and slammed the door behind them. Then she pushed him up against it, and he had the most delicious sense of déjà vu.

  Ruth grabbed his face, her fingers tight around his jaw. “Come here,” she ordered. Her eyes seemed darker than usual, pupils blown into each deep brown iris.

  He bent down, just enough to bring his mouth within reach of hers. She rose up, too, and then her lips were slanting over his, soft as the tulip clutched between his fingers.

  She caught his lower lip between her teeth and bit gently, and Evan found himself moaning against her mouth. Ruth dragged more noise out of him than anyone he’d ever been with. He didn’t mind at all.

  With a grunt, Evan picked her up. She released his lip and gave a soft, little laugh. “You can’t just pick me up whenever you feel like it.”

  “Why the hell not?” He carried her through the house, pausing to put his flower on a side table. “Isn’t that the point of you being so little?”

  “You keep saying that,” Ruth muttered, “but I’m exactly average height.”

  Evan paused, actually surprised. “Are you?”

  “I’m 5 foot 3,” she sniffed.

  “Are you?” He considered that for a moment. “You seem smaller.”

  “You are incredibly ill-mannered.”

  “That’s hilarious, coming from you.” He winked. “And, however tall you are, I like carrying you.”

  “You don’t think I’m heavy?”

  He felt his lips tip up at the suspicion in her voice. “Evidently not.”

  “Right. And why are we in the bathroom?”

  “Because we’re taking a shower.” He put her down gently, and then he slid his hands beneath the hem of her T-shirt. “Take this off.”

  She licked her lips, her eyes trailing over his body. “Yes, Sir.”

  They undressed each other, in the end, her hands dragging at his clothes with an eagerness he’d longed for. All he’d ever wanted was for her to say yes. And when she tugged his T-shirt over his head with a laugh, when she squeezed his erection through his jeans before unzipping them, that was all he heard. Over and over again, with every hurried touch. Yes.

  They stepped under the shower’s hot spray in a tangle of bodies, Ruth’s legs wrapped around his waist, her hands gripping his shoulders like a lifeline. He shoved her against the tiles and she moaned, grabbing his hair and hauling him closer. Kissing him. Giving him everything. Yes.

  He palmed her breast and she moaned into his mouth. He pinched the nipple and she bit at his lip. He could feel the slick heat of her pussy against his shaft, and he had to remind himself that he couldn’t just sink into her. No condom.

  Then she reached between their bodies and grasped his cock, wet skin against wet skin, and the burning desire for pressure receded because she, this, whatever she chose to give him, would always be exactly what he needed.

  Ruth pulled her lips from his and tipped her head back, water streaming over her face. She looked like a goddess. She felt like a goddess, her hand sliding over his cock faster and faster, eliciting sensations that had to be divine.

  “Stop,” he rasped out. “I’m trying to last.”

  She opened her eyes slightly, water collecting on her lashes, a wicked grin on her lips. “For what?”

  He kissed her again. And then, because two could play at that game, he reached between them and slid a finger inside her. She released a drawn-out moan, her grip on his cock faltering. When he brushed his thumb over her clit, she swore.

  “I’ll race you,” she panted out.

  “Race me?”

  “I bet I can make you come first.”

  Evan laughed. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

  “Why not? Don’t think you can win?”

  He rubbed the pad of his thumb firmly over her swollen clit, and she jerked sharply, her breath catching. With a grin, he pressed her harder against the tiles, using his body to pin her there. “I think I can win,” he said. “Even though you’ve had a head start.” Even though you keep me on the edge constantly, even though a look from you is enough to turn me on.

  She arched her back, water glistening over her brown skin, little droplets clinging to the stiff, dark tips of her nipples. Fuck.

  “Alright,” she breathed, a knowing smile curving her lips. “Let’s do it.”

  Evan lost by a second or two. He enjoyed it thoroughly.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  So,” Zach said. His usually easy-going smile took on a sharp, lascivious edge that Evan had never seen. Raising his brows suggestively, Zach continued, “Is this a… double date?”

  Hannah Kabbah cast a di
sdainful look over Zach, from the tips of his messy hair to his workman’s boots. Having been on the receiving end of that look, Evan knew how quelling it could be. Then she said, with clipped certainty, “Absolutely not.”

  Zach blinked rapidly.

  Evan bit back laughter.

  “I’m here to spend time with my sister,” Hannah said, popping open her jewelled little handbag. She produced a tube of lipstick and somehow uncapped the lid with one hand. Then she began applying it perfectly, without a mirror, while talking. “The two of you are here to do… whatever it is you do. It’s just that apparently, Ruth and Evan can’t be more than ten feet apart at any given time.”

  Evan leant against the busy bar of Ravenswood’s only pub and tried not to look as smug as he felt. “There’s only one place to drink in this town. Plus, I’m her ride.”

  “Ruth has a car,” Hannah pointed out. “But if you are driving her, you’d better not be drinking at all.”

  Evan raised his hands in compliance, one of which was already wrapped around a Coke.

  Still, the gaze she flicked over him was mildly disapproving. He didn’t take it personally; disapproval seemed to be her resting state.

  Ruth chose that moment to return from the bathroom. She’d insisted on going alone, which had caused her sister to look at her as if she’d grown a second head.

  Now, noting the determination in Ruth’s set jaw, the way she rubbed her palms against her legging-clad thighs, Evan suspected she’d been giving herself some kind of pep talk.

  Ruth talked to herself. A lot.

  He reached for her, but she avoided his hand with a wry smile. “We are not here as a couple,” she said pertly. “So you can’t do couple things.”

  He grabbed her anyway and pulled her closer, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “There,” he said. “That wasn’t a couple thing.”

  Hannah rolled her eyes.

  But Ruth was fighting a pleased little smile, glaring at him without heat. “We’re having a girls’ night out. Go away and do whatever it is you wanted to do.”

  “What if I want to chat up the prettiest girl in the room?” He asked. He heard Zach’s groan in the background, heard Hannah’s snort, but only cared about Ruth’s pursed lips, her dancing eyes.

  “You can try,” she said primly, “but you will find yourself rejected.” Then she hooked her arm through her sister’s, and the two of them turned to walk away.

  But she shot him one last look over her shoulder.

  “You two are absolutely sickening,” Zach said.

  “Thanks.”

  “Actually, you’re sickening. I’m not sure if she even likes you.”

  Evan felt a slow grin spread over his face. “I’m sure. I’m very, very sure.”

  “Right.” Zach gave him a baffled look. “Shall we sit down?”

  They made their way to a table not far from where the girls had settled. Close enough for Evan to keep an eye on them—or rather, on anyone who might approach them. But not close enough for him to hear a word of their conversation, especially over the pub’s cheerful din.

  Ruth caught sight of him and gave a slight smile. She’d asked him to come with her tonight. Not with her—she wanted to spend time with her sister. But to be there, in case. She hadn’t said in case of what, and he hadn’t had to ask.

  She was nervous. So he’d do this as often as it took, until she wasn’t nervous anymore.

  As time passed, Evan relaxed into his seat and into his conversation with Zach. He nursed his Coke, Zach nursed his lager, and hours ticked by while they talked shit about work, T.V., childhood—anything. It was the kind of easy friendship Evan’d had in the army, but beneath it lay a foundation of trust that had snuck up on him. Zach was a good guy. A really good guy, the type that was hard to find. He was also fucking hilarious.

  Until he paused mid-joke, the laughter fading from his face, and said, “Evan.”

  Evan didn’t have to ask. He followed Zach’s gaze to the pub’s back door, saw Daniel come in from the beer garden with a group of laughing men. They all had drinks in their hands, smiles on their faces, except Daniel. He was subdued, glowering—much as he had been at work, recently.

  Evan saw the exact moment that Daniel caught sight of Ruth. The man jolted as if he’d been bitten, his pale cheeks flushing.

  Without a second thought, Evan stood. But then Ruth looked over at him, and instead of the worry he’d expected to see on her face, there was only calm. Not the forced blankness that set his teeth on edge, but real, actual calm.

  She gave a slight shake of her head.

  Evan dragged in a breath. And then, feeling as if his every joint was suddenly stiff, he forced himself to sit back down.

  “Take a breath, mate. Relax.”

  He didn’t even look at Zach as he answered. His eyes narrowed, pinned to Ruth’s table, Evan said, “No.”

  “You okay?” Hannah murmured.

  Ruth straightened in her seat, because a month ago she would’ve slouched. Would’ve made herself small to shrink away from the men approaching their table.

  Things were different. She was different. She said, “Yes.” And then she added, “Are you?”

  Hannah’s gaze darkened. “You mean, will I control the urge to glass him?”

  “Hannah!” Sometimes, out of no-where, Ruth’s proper, sensible, caring sister would come over rather terrifying. It was, frankly, fantastic.

  “What?” Hannah demanded, feigning confusion. “Glassing him would be quite restrained, all things considered. Don’t you think?”

  And so, when Daniel and his gang finally arrived at their table, the sisters were laughing.

  Daniel glared down at them, arms folded, as if he were a teacher catching out unruly students. Ruth felt the carefree humour coursing through her fade away, like champagne going flat.

  But fear didn’t arrive in its place. No; the emotion that filled her at the sight of Daniel’s sharp, green eyes was anger.

  Ruth stirred the straw through her vodka and orange, and said calmly, “Can I help you?”

  Daniel couldn’t have looked more furious if she’d insulted his long-dead mother. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?” He demanded. His voice, already deep and strong thanks to his barrel chest, carried. He was drunk.

  Oh, great.

  Ruth raised her brows. “I’m having a drink with my sister. You know Hannah, Daniel. You identified her—”

  “We were at school together,” Daniel interrupted sharply. “Obviously, I know Hannah.”

  Hannah, who was currently staring at him with more disgust than she would stare at dog shit on the pavement. Hannah, whose gaze he studiously avoided.

  Ruth didn’t miss the feverish gleam in Daniel’s eyes or the slight flush on his cheeks, the one that spoke of panic, of pressure. She took a sip of her drink, watching him closely.

  Then she said, “Anything else?”

  He shifted. Around him, his friends hovered like dandelion seeds half-blown from the clock. Usually, Daniel surrounded himself with men who made their presence intimidating, men who punctuated his every word with supportive jeers and pats on the back.

  These men were familiar faces to Ruth. But they weren’t acting in a familiar manner.

  He set his jaw and took in a deep breath—which meant he was searching for the best possible insult. But he must be very drunk indeed, because all he managed to come up with was, “I know you spoke to my father.”

  “I’m sure,” Ruth said. “It wasn’t a secret.”

  He appeared nonplussed by that. And Ruth noticed, slowly, the realisation trickling into her brain, that the pub had grown quiet. Tense. Whispers bubbled beneath a thick film of silence, and all eyes were pinned to the town’s live melodrama.

  Let them watch.

  Across the table, Hannah put down her gin and tonic with a sigh. “Look,” she said. “I don’t know if you can tell, but Ruth doesn’t want to talk to you. And I certainly don’t want to.”


  Daniel’s flush deepened, until his cheeks were almost as red as his hair. “Is that what you’ve told her, Ruth?” He demanded. “That you don’t want to talk to me?”

  Ruth frowned. “I don’t want to talk to you. Why the hell would I?”

  His mouth worked for a moment, his nostrils flaring, before he stepped closer. He leaned over the table as if wanting privacy, but when he spoke, his words were embarrassingly loud.

  “I know you told me to stop,” he said. “But that’s what you said before! And I kept trying. I waited—”

  “This isn’t like before,” Ruth clipped out, awful understanding washing over her. “We were kids. It was pathetic. But I’m not playing hard to get right now, Daniel. I don’t want you to convince me. I want to be left alone.”

  Without warning, Daniel slammed a hand against the table, knocking over her drink.

  She heard the scrape of multiple chairs as people rose to their feet, heard voices overlap.

  “Come on, now, mate—”

  “Calm down—”

  “Just leave her be—”

  Ruth wasn’t paying attention to any of it. She wasn’t even paying attention to the slow drip of liquid spilling from the table’s edge onto her legs. Instead, she sought out Evan, found he and Zach both on their feet, and glared. Hard.

  Don’t you dare come over here.

  Evan glared right back. You can’t be serious.

  She mouthed, clear as day, “Sit.”

  He stared at her for a moment, his chest heaving. Then, slowly, he sat.

  Relieved, Ruth turned back to Daniel. His friends had hold of him now; one man gripped his shoulder firmly, even as he spoke in soothing words. Another grasped Daniel’s wrist, stilling his right hand, speaking sharply under his breath.

  Daniel tugged away and muttered, “I’m fine. I’m fine.” And then he narrowed his eyes at Ruth and spat, “You think I don’t know your latest victim is in here? Watching you like a lapdog?”

  Ruth arched a brow, unimpressed. Daniel had always had a way with words, and with metal, and not much else. “I’m assuming you mean Evan,” she said. “My boyfriend.”